


How Do You Like It?

by Psiiconic



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Biting, Blowjobs, Implied First Time, M/M, PWP, Rough Sex, Sex, Spanking, Uhhhhh enthusiastic consent?, this is literally just fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 15:52:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11901036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psiiconic/pseuds/Psiiconic
Summary: Roadhog and Junkrat break down one last professional barrier in the middle of Sydney.





	How Do You Like It?

**Author's Note:**

> This can be considered canon to my other fic, Acetone Peroxide!

They'd been getting drunk for an hour. Between the piles of cash and scattered cans of beer, Junkrat had brought up fucking. The conversation was onesided at first as always, Roadhog grunting along calmly, until Junkrat finally asked something relevant when he was already half in Roadhog’s lap. 

“Yer just a big softie in bed, ain't ya, Hoggie?” 

Roadhog rumbled, shaking his head. "Nah. Y’know how I really like it, Rat?"

Junkrat tilted his head. "How d'ya like it, Hog?" He was getting dangerously close to kissing Roadhog-he'd been on the man’s lap for the better part of their drinking session. 

"Hard and rough," came the response, deep from the man's barrel chest. It was rumbled about half a second before Junkrat was able to come into physical contact with him. "Until y'can't even whine."

Junkrat gave a shiver, a grin spreading across his lips that spoke of his unique form of greed. “Y’gonna make it hard for me t’walk, Hoggie?” 

 

Roadhog gave that same deep dark laugh he'd graced Junkrat with during their heist. "Yer not even gonna be hoppin'." One big hand seized Junkrat around the hip, holding him firm before Roadhog's mouth-mask pushed up just enough- was somewhere in the vicinity of Junkrat's left ear, biting teasingly at the lobe and tugging. Unlike Junkrat he had all his teeth-only a few gold molars way in the back-and he could be gentle with them when he wanted. As his mouth slid to Junkrat's jaw it became very swiftly apparent that this was not one of those times. 

Junkrat had seen the tusk implants Roadhog bore in his bottom jaw for almost a year now, had seen them every time Roadhog lifted his mask to eat or drink. He'd asked, and gotten a rough reply about Roadhog's teenage idiocy. 

It was entirely impossible to believe the tusks were a mistake when they were biting into his skin and drawing blood. 

The first bite to his neck _hurt_ so fuckin’ good that he dug his metal fingers into Roadhog’s bicep hard enough to hear the metal complain. 

The second made his body arch, his hand release the pig’s bicep, and he let out a whine of greed, a desire for more. _More_ , more, he always wanted more, and Roadhog gave him more. 

He didn't care about the alcohol on his own breath and Roadhog’s, didn't care about their hideout or the sky or if a trap went off. All he cared about was getting _more_. 

Junkrat, if later asked, would blame it on the alcohol and nothing else. He let out a little squeak of a yelp at the third bite, before he decided to claw at Roadhog's back. He could feel the blood on his neck and the welts he was raking into bare shoulders and he didn't mind at all. He could feel the dull ache, and again, didn't care. He kept himself open for Roadhog to ravage, mark, and bruise however he pleased-but Junkrat did start leaving his own little bites, not daring to break skin.

Roadhog let out a huff like a wild boar (how apt) and made the decision to move, bringing them both from their pile of loot and booze to the mattress he'd retrieved, and his tusks bit into Junkrat's collarbone next. He tried not to totally crush Junkrat, of course. All 550-ish pounds of him and the poor scrawny maniac would probably outright die, but Roadhog was aware enough to hold himself up with his forearms and his knees. It was still the closest, really, that they'd ever been since arriving in Sydney, mask only half on his face, armor and other clothing save for pants long discarded. 

Nothing but Roadhog, Junkrat, determined teeth and metal fingers clawing right beside real ones at massive shoulders with tattoos all down the right side. The stolen alcohol burned nicely on their lips, and fire started to burn in Roadhog’s veins that ran ice cold as soon as he felt a hand on the straps of his mask. 

Like a snake, his hand shot out and grabbed Junkrat’s wrist-the metal one, he realized belatedly. Smart. The rat knew he was going to grab for the hand in his hair. 

“C’mon Roadie,” Junkrat murmured, his voice teasing and slightly breathy. “S’dark. Ain't gonna see nothin’ ya don't want me to see.” 

He had a point. It was nearly three in the morning-they were fresh off a police chase, with ten thousand dollars in cash and stolen alcohol fueling them both. The pause belatedly made Roadhog remember the old worn bottle of lube in his back pocket, and his hand tightened for a moment on Junkrat’s metal wrist. 

Did he dare continue?

He should stop right there. He should say ‘enough’ or ‘not tonight’ or anything else of the sort because he knew Junkrat was drunk and giddy off success. But so was he, and he’d been quietly enduring Junkrat at his most touchy-feely long enough that he'd hardly noticed when being climbed on turned into hugs, or when there began to be kisses. 

And Junkrat trusted him. He trusted him enough to drape himself over Roadhog’s body at any time of day and knew that he wouldn't get a broken bone for the trouble, trusted him enough to sleep on him and eat the food he made, even if it was a skewer of bugs. 

So, yes...he did dare.

His hand loosened and dropped, and Roadhog bent his head forward-giving Junkrat permission to slide the straps off his head and let the mask fall away. 

Junkrat laid it down, just to the side and respectfully. His flesh hand cupped Roadhog’s cheek and he made a sound of-wonder?

Yeah. That was the same sound Junkrat made when he’d seen his first firefly (two weeks ago in Perth) and when he'd discovered he liked bubble tea, half sweet (three days ago here in Sydney). Here in the half-dark of a construction zone surrounded by brightly lit streets, Junkrat held Roadhog’s face in his hand and was in awe. 

He was able to be in awe for all of two seconds before Roadhog’s mouth bit right where the bomber’s wiry shoulder and neck met, a rumbling growl rushing from Roadhog’s throat as his scarred face pressed greedily into Junkrat’s skin, the gold ring in his septum slightly cold to the touch. There was no hesitation, not even a second of it, and Roadhog was every inch the one-man apocalypse when he grunted Junkrat’s name and hitched his one complete leg up and over his hip. Junkrat was quick to hook the prosthetic on the other side, Roadhog seeming not to mind too much that the peg dug into his skin. 

There was fire burning under the surface, flaring when his teeth sank into Junkrat’s skin and his huge hands held the scrawny junker down on the mattress, Junkrat squirming and making noises he'd never heard before when he scraped the tusks against his chest, and Roadhog’s tongue slid over a nipple. Junkrat wasn't familiar with the feeling and let out a cry, his back arching as his hands took it upon themselves to take Roadhog’s hair down in a sheet of white. He buried his nose in it and smelled the smoke of his own bombs. 

Roadhog’s fingers would leave huge bruises the next day, his teeth making blood well up, and his mouth traveled all the way to Junkrat’s navel before the sharp tug of a metal hand where he really didn't want him to be brought his mouth away with a growl, hair caught in the joints. 

_“Junkrat. Hand.”_

“Why’d ya st-oh.” Junkrat delicately disentangled Roadhog’s hair from his metal fingers. Roadhog growled when a few strands got tugged loose. “Hand. Take it off.” 

“Why? Ain't gonna have a good grip on-” 

“Take it off or you ain't gettin’ blown.” 

The suddenly awestruck expression on Junkrat’s face was visible even in the dark. “Oh. _Oh.”_

The hurried sound of the prosthetic’s hydraulics and crude pressure-locking mechanism releasing with a hiss came next, and a thump as the limb fell to the mattress. Junkrat laid it aside and wiggled his stump. “Happy piggie?” 

“Happy piggie,” Roadhog repeated, tusks glinting pink with traces of Junkrat’s blood before his mouth was scraping the line of Junkrat’s hip and downward as his hands undid Junkrat’s shorts. “Not as happy as yer gonna be.” 

“Oh yeah?” He was already breathing heavy, they both had been, and Roadhog didn't know if it was the alcohol that made Junkrat’s skin so hot, but it suddenly gave him ideas. 

Tusks scraped and pressed, but didn't break sensitive skin, and his thick lips parted enough to let out a low laugh that made Junkrat shiver. It was the same shiver he got when Roadhog had laughed like that at the cops trying to pin them down. It was the laugh that meant Roadhog was either having fun or had an idea-and in this case it was both.

“Yeah,” he rumbled, letting his mouth stay so close to Junkrat’s skin that his words were more vibration than speech while his hands pinned Junkrat’s hips. “Gonna make you squeal, Rat. Yer not gonna get outta this one.” Junkrat shivered pleasantly again. 

“Yer trapped, Rat. Yer trapped an’ there ain't a thing you can do.” Another shiver. 

“Fuck, _Roadie-”_

The slightest press of teeth had Junkrat gasping, his remaining hand trying to hold Roadhog’s head closer to his cock. He was stiff and eager and _fuck_ , Roadhog had never made him wait this long, not for an explosion-which for Junkrat was as close as it had come to sex, until now. 

Roadhog’s tongue slid across the skin just to the left of Junkrat’s dick, and it made the young man let out a tiny squeak. 

“Yer gonna squeal louder than that, Rat.” His tongue teased the skin again, and he let out another chuckle. “Ya gotta squeal real good before I do ya. Gonna take my time nice an’ slow before I get to th’hard an’ rough.” 

“You fucker-” 

Roadhog gripped his hips hard and held him down before he pressed his mouth against the base of Junkrat’s dick, strong arms easily pinning even the wriggliest of rats down. Junkrat was predictably easy to irritate, his flesh hand digging into Roadhog's scalp. Roadhog tolerated it, rewarding Junkrat by licking up the underside of his dick. He wanted to make Junkrat quake and beg before he tested the strength of the floor under the bare mattress. 

Junkrat whined and tried to move, hips straining against Roadhog’s powerful hands in a fruitless effort for more. Roadhog laughed and wrapped his lips around the head of Junkrat’s cock for exactly a half a second before he jerked his neck back. “I said _squeal_ , Rat.” 

Junkrat let out a strangled squeal through gritted teeth. “ _Roadie-_ ”

Roadhog’s mouth slid over Junkrat’s dick in the next second, and then Junkrat let out a genuine wordless _squeal_ of pleasure and want. 

Roadhog rewarded him by hollowing his cheeks and sinking down until his nose pressed into sparse blonde hair. It wasn't even difficult to take him in-he was decent, but Roadhog was experienced. And had a big mouth. 

He gave Junkrat exactly thirty seconds of greedy thrusting into his mouth before he held Junkrat down and pulled away smirking. 

Junkrat began to complain and beg. He liked hearing Junkrat beg. 

“Ah fuck, Hoggie, please just fuckin’ do me, fuck, ya fuckin’ wombat!” 

“Bit of a slag, ain’t ya?” Roadhog smirked and dug into his back pocket for that rare-used bottle, the label worn off by the denim. 

“Drongo.” 

“Bogan.” 

“You fucking wanker.” 

Roadhog’s only response to that was a laugh and the sound of a popped cap, and his mouth came back to suck at Junkrat’s tip as he got his right hand slicked up. 

Junkrat tugged at his scalp again and complained loudly as Roadhog teased him and edged him, bringing him so close that his ears burned and taking all touch away. It seemed like it lasted for ages, Junkrat’s whining and begging eventually devolving into swearing loudly as Roadhog finally, _finally_ pressed a finger against him. 

“Ya bloody flamin’ galah!” Junkrat tried to arch and press down on Roadhog’s thick finger, the only real response a self-satisfied rumble around his dick. “Fuck!” 

Roadhog was getting impatient. As much as he liked the begging, his own clothes were far too tight and it was driving him insane. Junkrat’s voice was starting to grate as he screeched and complained and told Roadhog to give him more and go faster. 

He worked in a second finger-Junkrat was fairly used to him by now, but prep was still a necessity considering Roadhog’s sheer size-and Junkrat’s one hand pulled his hair so hard that he snarled. 

“Say _please_ , Rat.” 

“Oh God, Roadie, fuckin’ _please_ , I can't bloody take it no more!!” 

“Say it again, ya little fuck.” 

“ _Please_ ,” Junkrat breathed, his voice hoarse from all the complaining and shrieking he'd been doing. 

Roadhog’s huge hands withdrew, then flipped, Junkrat landing on his own face with an annoyed “Oof!” as Roadhog tugged the junker’s shorts the rest of the way off. Junkrat got the message and hitched himself up on his knees, prosthetic joint putting a sizable hole in the mattress as he arched back to show off his slightly shiny ass and his balls, the way his dick hung heavy and dripping because of Roadhog. 

By the time Junkrat did that much Roadhog had discarded his clothing and started to slick himself up. Junkrat looked over his shoulder and let out an earsplitting, clearly still drunk cackle. “C’mon little piggy! Root me good! Ha!” He giggled again and wiggled his hips. 

Junkrat earned himself a smack right on the arse, and he let out a squeal of surprise. “What wazzat for ya fuckin’ dingoface!?” 

“Yer runnin’ outta insults, Rat,” came the answering rumble. 

“Ya kept me on the fuckin’ edge for a half a fuckin’ hour!” 

“It was only ten minutes.” 

“SUCK MY ASS!” Junkrat screeched. He'd had enough, he wanted the promised fuck. Roadhog just laughed and slapped his ass again, making Junkrat squeal one more time. “Nah. Ya got a blowie. That’s good enough for one dirty rat.”

Junkrat’s hand clawed at the mattress. They didn't have sheets, just a few blankets that were solidly reserved for not being fucked on. His chipped and bitten nails couldn't get a good grip and he let out an annoyed wail, for which he promptly got spanked again. His cheek was turning brilliant red, even in the darkness, and he gasped as Roadhog pressed the shaft of his thick cock between the cleft. “Come on come on come on!! I hate it when ya make me wait, Hoggie!” 

“Yer an animal.” 

“Too right!” 

Roadhog just rolled his eyes and took great joy in spanking the side of Junkrat’s rear that wasn't red with a huge handprint sharply. He waited for the squeal and got it, enjoying the sharp, high-pitched noise before he shifted and pushed his cock into place, any semblance of gentlemanly preparation gone the moment his tip pushed past the ring of muscle. Junkrat hadn't been spread as much as usual-and the moan the bomber let out indicated that Roadhog’s drunken hunch was correct. 

They wanted it to hurt. 

Why, neither would be able to say, but they didn't argue with their drunk brains. Roadhog slid himself in about halfway and paused like he otherwise would, but Junkrat gave an annoyed screech and he snarled back before he slid himself in right to the hilt, belly bouncing slightly as he smacked into the scrawny junker’s sore body. The next screech from the rat was a pleased one and Roadhog let out another boarlike snort before his hips moved. 

Each hard smack earned him another screechy, almost hoarse squeal of pained pleasure, and he could hear fabric tearing as Junkrat’s knee joint dug into the hole it had made. He leaned down, letting Junkrat feel his weight and power, making sure they both knew how easily Junkrat could die at Roadhog’s mercy. 

The threat of dying just made Junkrat more excited and he greedily pressed into Roadhog's chest and belly, the wild laughter ripping from his throat spurring the hog on. It was everything they needed, just as fast and deadly as their evening robbery. It took everything Roadhog had to hold out when Junkrat gasped and his shoulders shook, unable to hold himself up with just one arm any longer as his torso collapsed to the mattress and Roadhog just kept going. 

Junkrat’s cackling had faded into desperate whines, just laying there and letting Roadhog have his way. 

Roadhog gave a sudden growl, a low dangerous sound that was not entirely unlike the sort he had first made when he'd realized Junkrat had a live grenade two inches from his mask at their first meeting. 

The memory was...enticing, exciting. He never would have guessed he'd end up here, slamming balls-deep into a gorgeous scrawny maniac that he would give his life for. 

Junkrat’s squawking yanked him out of his thoughts. “Roadie! Roadie, Roadie, fuck right there don't fuckin’ stop! Fuck fuck _fuck FUCK, ROADIE!_ ” 

He felt Junkrat cum before he saw semen splattering the mattress, felt the man’s entire body tense up in a massive spasm, his spine pressing into Roadhog’s chest and his hole going tight around his cock before Junkrat relaxed with a sudden gasp as if he’d been holding his breath. The realization was enough to break Roadhog’s rhythm and he thrust erratically for a few seconds before he slammed himself into Junkrat’s hole and let out a roar as he came. 

The rushing in his ears faded, and he swayed a little before rolling sideways and bringing Junkrat with him, both men groaning as his own cum started to dribble down Roadhog’s dick and there was a tearing sound. 

There was mattress foam attached to a sharp gear in Junkrat’s knee. Neither of them moved for a solid minute before Roadhog let out a huge sigh and lifted Junkrat off his dick. 

“Y’need water?” 

“Nuh,” Junkrat muttered. 

“Blanket?” 

“Nuh. Jus’hold.” 

That was satisfying. Roadhog wrapped a thick arm around Junkrat’s body and gave a hum of sudden contentment. 

Then he reached down to tug the foam free of Junkrat’s leg. 

“Guess we gotta flip the mattress over, Hoggie.” 

Roadhog gave a content sigh. “T’morrow. Slept on worse.” 

“Mmm. Yea. Gotta lay low anyway...hangover an’ fresh off a robbery. Heheheheheheh. Heheh.” 

“Shut up.” 

“....Hey Roadie?” 

“What?” He sighed. 

“Love ya.” 

“...love ya too, ya ugly cunt.”


End file.
